Quicksand
by sallonesque
Summary: [RENTslash RogerMark] Mark stops and takes stock of what he has left without a lover. Sorry for the high rating, kids. Extreme angst ahead. Proceed with caution and lets see how many genres I can fit into the summary! It's a slashimplying songfic


Disclaimer: Characters from RENT are Jonathan Larson's. Lyrics from Quicksand are David Bowie's.

Notes: Awman. I've been waiting to write this fic for AGES. Not only does it incorporate the ultimate angst for our favourite little camera boy, it's a songfic (my first one, I might add) and the song is by God (aka David Bowie). I've been listening to Hunky Dory for the past few days and this song (Quicksand) has become my song of the month. I love it so much and the lyrics are just.. yum.

Please please PLEASE read and review, my loves! This is my first songfic and feedback is absolutely essential. Also! If there are any ideas floating around out there for any sort of fic, HAND THEM OVER. I desperately need something to do with my spare time!

Thank you for reading, lovelies! Don't forget to tip your author with a review. The payback with be her eternal love and devotion and possibly the inclusion of her mortal soul if the mood strikes her.

* * *

I had everything; great friends, someone who loved me— who_ I_ loved. I had my whole life ahead of me, even though it was considered by some to be empty and meaningless.

_I'm closer to the Golden Dawn  
Immersed in Crowley's uniform of imagery _

I had my work. I loved my work too. I loved my work a lot. But not as much as I loved Roger.

_I'm living in a silent film  
Portraying Himmler's sacred realm of dream reality_

I always knew it would happen, but I just wasn't prepared for it in the way I imagined I would be. Roger died last week. I understand it, but I haven't really accepted it. I mean, how are you supposed to accept that your best friend since junior high and partner of almost four years just died? Are you supposed to just come to terms with it and move on? That's what the doctors say. But I'm scared. I'm scared because I always knew it would happen to him and it finally did. I'm scared because I've always known it will happen to me someday. I lived for Roger; his good days, his bad days and every day in between. Ask anyone. Without him, I'm not sure I can do it.

_I'm frightened by the total goal_

_Drawing to the ragged hole  
And I ain't got the power anymore  
No I ain't got the power anymore_

He was my life. Without him to take care of, what purpose do I have? I have no sense of self. Sometimes I wonder if it was all just a dream and this is just me waking up and snapping out of it.

_I'm the twisted name  
on Garbo's eyes  
Living proof of  
Churchill's lies _

_I'm destiny_

I don't know what to do with myself. I've tried so many times to just get up off of his bed and clean the loft or call my mom or something, something constructive— anything. The first days after it happened, I spent all my time in hysterics. Now that I've calmed down, I've thought about a lot of things. So many things, in fact, that I can't escape my thoughts. They're everywhere. And in every thought, there's a memory. A memory of him, of us. I don't know what to do.

_I'm torn between the light and dark  
Where others see their targets  
Divine symmetry _

I was brought up in a moderately religious family. We went to temple and we honored holy days, but deep down I don't think I ever bought into any of that crap about God. How could I? If I did, I wouldn't even be considering what I'm considering. It's completely against my religion and all of my faith's principles. Life is an extremely precious thing to religious types.

_Should I kiss the viper's fang  
Or herald loud the death of Man?_

It's against my religion, but what choice do I have?

_I'm sinking in the quicksand  
of my thought  
And I ain't got the power anymore_

I know I shouldn't. What would Maureen say? ...Who cares? I'm sure she'd cry about it and throw some dramatic scene... but then she has Joanne to come home to. Collins and Angel are already together. Why shouldn't Roger and I be? I wish I knew what to do, but I don't.

_Don't believe in yourself  
Don't deceive with belief  
Knowledge comes  
with death's release  
_

I've never been particularly special compared to the rest of my friends. I was always just the camera that captured Maureen's talent and Collins and Angel's love and Roger's beauty and everything about them all.

_I'm not a prophet  
or a stone age man_

I'm just me. Just me. Always have been. But with Roger, I wasn't. I was something great. And I was great because he wanted me to be. I was great because _he_ thought I was— and told me so.

_Just a mortal  
with the potential of a superman _

I want to be able to go on. To be able to say to everyone "Look at me! I survived this! Your problems aren't so bad." and feel accomplished. Much in the way I assume Collins did. Well, Collins was never quite like _that_ about it, but he had to have thought that way at one point or another.

_I'm living on _

But I can't be like Collins. I'm not stoic or even brave. Not without Roger to be brave for. Then again, he was always brave enough for the both of us, so it never really mattered. So maybe I'm a coward. That's what everyone says after something like this, right? "They took the easy way out, they were a coward for doing that." So maybe I'm a coward, but it's what I know. I know how to be a coward.

_I'm tethered to the logic  
of Homosapien _

The thought of it is almost alluring. Not at all glamorous, mind you, but alluring all the same. Stupid, but alluring. Cowardly, but alluring. Terrible and cliché, but it calls to me in a way that I can't ignore.

_Can't take my eyes  
from the great salvation  
Of bullshit faith _

I can't explain why it's so appealing. Roger would be ashamed that I didn't stick around, suck it up and move on. But at least I'll be able to see him on the other side to discuss it.

_If I don't explain what you ought to know  
You can tell me all about it on the next Bardo_

There's no one to leave a note for. No one will find it. I close my eyes as I climb onto the chair. Still thinking. Images of Roger wallpaper every tiny niche of my mind while I'm pulling a red tie around my neck. A makeshift noose. Makeshift like everything Roger and I have ever owned or shared. Memories drown me as I take a deep breath. I shouldn't do this, but now is not the time for backing out. I have to do this. Because I can't continue. I don't have the will to. I don't have the power to.

_I'm sinking in the quicksand  
of my thought  
And I ain't got the power anymore_


End file.
